Robert Asprin - No Phule Like an Old Phule

"Sure 'nuff, C. H.," came the raspy voice of Harry's Supply assistant. "Got it covered. Have a good ride!..-see you in a couple."

Harry nodded He knew he could trust Double- X not to mess up too seriously if something complicated came up in his absence. He pushed the starter button on the hover unit and listened critically as the antigrav units warmed up. Satisfied at the low purr, he mounted the bike and put on his helmet, then keyed the remote to open the Supply dump's delivery bay door. It slid noiselessly open. Harry edged the throttle up a notch, put the propulsion module into slow forward setting~ and edged the Hawg out the doorway into the late-morning sunlight.

A few legionnaires waved to the Supply sergeant as he came into sight on the hovercycle. Chocolate Harry grinned and waved back, then rolled his left wrist slightly, revving the engine just enough to remind the onlookers of the Hawg's power. A quick motion of the right hand, and he was in gear, soaring off into the desert in search of whatever adventures awaited him. Well, to tell the truth, there weren't usually any adventures, but out in the open air, it felt as if the chances were a lot better than at his desk in the Supply depot.

At first Harry took a familiar path-a broad, level swath where he could push the hovercycle close to its top speed without worrying about obstacles. He leaned forward, lowering his profile as the Hawg cut into the dry wind, enjoying the speed for its own sake. Out of the comer of his eye he could spot small desert animals belatedly scurrying out of the way of this noisy intruder. He'd never seen any living thing much bigger than the palm of his hand-there was nothing larger than that in this part of the planet, according to the Zenobians.

He came to a halt on a low rise, where he wheeled the bike around to get a look back toward the camp. The landscape around the Legion base was flat enough that even a slight hillock gave a long view in all directions. Harry normally didn't spend a great deal of time admiring the view, however. In his opinion, the desert landscape was just so much worthless real estate. Not even the locals had much use for it-as evidenced by the fact that they'd given it to the Legion for a base.

This time, though, there was something new in the picture. In the middle distance, just south of the Legion base, there was a green canopy-a tent of some sort, Harry realized. It only took a moment for him to remember the scuttlebutt he'd heard from the command office. Captain Jester had finally found out that all the support he'd gotten from his buddies in the State Department came with a hefty price tag: namely, giving a party of big-time politicos the run of the planet for hunting. Harry could have told him it was going to cost-in fact, he'd be surprised if this was the only payback in the deal.

Of course, that was only part of the story. Visitors from off-planet wouldn't have all the stuff they needed to handle local conditions. Chocolate Harry was just sure they'd have to have all sorts of supplemental provisions and supplies.

The right color camouflage to match the local landscape, for example. Harry had plenty of it. They'd probably want extra liquor, and ammo, and bait... Harry was sure he could get hold of all that, too. Harry smiled. This could be the best opportunity to come his way since he'd cornered the market on purple antirobot cammy.

He revved his engine and started off toward the distant tent.

Sushi found Flight Leftenant Qual with a crew of his fellow Zenobians, working with the large device that had been the focus of their attention for the last several days. Exactly what its purpose was, Sushi had never learned; he assumed the captain had some general notion what the thing did and why the Zenobians were setting it up in the middle of a Legion camp.

"How's everything going, Qual?" said Sushi, walking up to the group. "Good to see you today."

"Ah, Rawfish," said Qual, flashing the disconcerting smile that reminded everyone of his race's carnivorous proclivities. "The Sklern is obstinate today, but a tightening of the Zorn Modulator should resolve that issue. Or so one hopes. Mechanical onerosities can be recalcitrant, even with a good crew."

"I know what you mean," said Sushi, surprised even as he said it that he did follow the Zenobian's general drift. "In fact, that's sort of what I came to see you about"

"Ah, does your species have its own Sklerns?" The tip of Qual's tail began twitching. "We were not aware of it"

"Nope, we're Sklernless, far as I know," said Sushi. "It's one of our own machines I want to check out. Your autotranslator has been giving us some flaky output lately, and I wanted to see if we could recalibrate it"

"Flaking outpost?" Qual's eyes opened wider, and he stared at the miniature device hanging from a strap around his shoulder. "I have not seen any signs of it."

"Well, there you go," said Sushi, grinning. "That's just the kind of thing I was talking about The translator usually adjusts itself automatically, but it's not necessarily perfect In your case, you were the first of your species to get one, and there must have been some glitches because we didn't have any previous samples of your language. Anyway, it's been doing subtle mistranslations, probably in both directions, for quite a while now. That could be dangerous in an emergency. Best to catch it before anybody's life depends on it"

"Oh ho, I comprehend," said Qual. "To state the facts, I thought some of you humans were saying very strange things, but I attributed it to your extremely bizarre cultural attitudes. But if it is merely a mechanical delusion, correction would be a boon to both species. How do you intend to adjust the device?"

"Well, to do it right, I need some information on your language," said Sushi.

"Ah, I am but a simple air warrior," said Flight Leftenant Qual. "The subtleties of semantics are beyond me. Perhaps you need a certified scholar of language."

"Don't sell yourself short," said Sushi, breezily. "You've been speaking your native language since you were a kid..."

"Not so," said Flight Leftenant Qual. "Our people do not acquire language until they are nearly grown, and each finds his own way. And some ways are very strange indeed. But the better a Zenobian speaks, the greater rights and duties that one can achieve. Chief Potentary Korg is the great power that he is because he is the most admired speaker on all the planet Sushi stared at Qual for a long moment, then shook his head.

"If I didn't know you better, I'd think you were giving me the business. In fact, I'm still not sure you're not trying to pull the insulated fabric over my eyes." It is a verity," said Qual, and the other Zenobians working with him, who had followed the conversation with apparent interest, flipped their tails from side to side-a gesture that the legionnaires had learned meant the same to the Zenobians as a nod to humans. "Perhaps your translator problems arise from this feature of our language."

"It sounds like a good recipe for problems," said Sushi.

"Do you mean that everyone speaks completely differently?"

"Oh, not completely so," said Qual. "Careful guardians will expose the adolescents in their charge to the most admired speakers, hoping to influence their mode of speech. It works, to some degree. I myself was made to listen to the speeches of Korg's Predecesor. Grand Potentary Zarf. I believe that was a large factor in my rising to officer rank so quickly."

"Amazing," said Sushi, shaking his head. "So how do messages that have to reach a lot of people get sent? Do you have some kind of common language that everybody understands?"

"Oh, yes," said Qual. "But it is curious that you ask, Rawfish. That is a language that everyone knows, but no one speaks."

"What the...?" Sushi frowned. "If nobody speaks it, how can you communicate in it?"